Gravitron
by Brandywine00
Summary: Ellie's life is spinning, pressing her up against the wall, so far from center. Sequel to Tightrope & Fire Eater. Written for the Jellie Shippers Summer Carnival Challenge. Prompt: Gravitron. Rating may go up in later chapters. Reviews pls?
1. Chapter 1

GRAVITRON  
Written for Jellie Carnival Summer Challenge: Sequel to "Tightrope" and "Fire Eater." (If you haven't read them first, they'll help set the scene.)  
A/N: Spoilers for Season Three Finale; JELLIE friendship/angst/comfort, or pre-Jellie if you like?  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I owned any rights to John Casey, we'd never leave the house!;D

Part One

She was going to get caught.

Ellie's eyes narrowed as she watched the asphalt ahead, her booted foot pressing harder on the accelerator. A surge of power answered her demand as the SUV lunged forward toward the horizon.

Somehow she couldn't quite bring herself to care about her perfect driving record or some meaningless ticket. Couldn't dredge up enough of the old Ellie to slow the vehicle down, be cautious, be responsible, be the one who always did what was expected, what was needed, what was prudent.

In the passenger seat beside her, the screen lit up, her brother's face ID smiling back at her.

"What, Chuck?" She demanded.

"Ellie! Ellie, c'mon, please… let's talk this over. Please, Ellie? Just… just come home. We'll all sit down and be rational about this. I'm sure whatever's going on with you, between you and Devon, it can be worked out. Come home so we can talk?"

"Talk? You want to _talk_?" Anger flared from deep within. "Where was this burning need for conversation over the last few months? The last few _years_? However long it is you've all been keeping me in the dark? I don't want to talk, Chuck. I _tried_ to get you to talk to me. All those times when I knew, I _knew_ something was wrong, but you never wanted to let me in, didn't want to involve me, and now where has that got us?"

"Ell, I couldn't. Do you know how hard it was to keep it to myself? I had to protect you," he pleaded. "I know it doesn't make sense, but there was not vast conspiracy to keep you in the dark. Well… okay, there kinda _was_, but it wasn't just you. Devon, Morgan, they weren't supposed to know either, and didn't for the longest time."

His weary voice through the speaker almost softened her resolved. Until his next words. "Sis, Devon's packing. Says he can't get through to you. Ellie, I know the guy loves you, I know he wants you to come back. He doesn't want to leave, but he says you're not giving him any choice and God, how I _hate_ talking about this kind of thing over the phone!

"Can't get through to – " A flood of hurt doused the anger. "Devon doesn't want me to talk, Chuck. Not really. He just wants me to smile and say it's all okay again, and pretend that everything's the same as it was before, pretend we're the same people we were before and I can't. I'm just not that person anymore, Chuck! Anytime I try to talk to him about it, try to really tell him how I feel, he shuts down. He puts in his earbuds and hops on that damned bike or goes for a run, or 'suddenly' remembers he was supposed to cover someone's shift at the hospital. And I just can't handle it anymore, because it's _not_ okay! _Okay_?"

"Sis! Ellie! Be sensible about this. You can't just go running off to who-knows where! It's not safe and you know it!"

"Sensible, Chuck? Really? I've been sensible. I've been the _only_ sensible one!" Her voice grew dangerously calm, quivering with pent-up anger. "Damn it, someone else can be sensible for a change."

Jabbing the off button, she tossed the phone into her purse, ignoring it as the ringtone sounded again almost immediately . She'd been the grown-up for all of them, all these years, and look what it'd got her. Not one of them had trusted her with the truth. She forced the burning sting of tears back, focusing on the dotted white line stretching out toward the horizon.

She wasn't sure which hurt worse: that the very ones who expected her to be responsible didn't consider her responsible enough to be trusted with the truth; or that by keeping her in the dark, they'd left her open to the manipulation and deception that had ultimately brought about her father's death. That had made her responsible for his death.

Flexing her fingers around the steering wheel, Ellie tried to blink back the hot tears, barely noticing the dark vehicle speeding down the exit ramp and slipping into traffic behind her.

.~.~.~.  
Casey calmly edged the Crown Vic around a slow-moving minivan, keeping the barest edge of Ellie's vehicle in his sights. He had to give the lady credit as she weaved through the mess that was rush hour: the woman really knew how to drive.

Maintaining a proper thirty-yard tailing distance, John tried to ignore the twisting in his chest. He'd seen the warning signs, knew the situation at Casa Bartowski-Woodcomb was reaching nuclear proportions. He'd even tried to help bolster the containment field, strengthen the safeties. But in the end, the core had gone into meltdown, and heaven help anyone in the fallout zone.

It still surprised him that anyone else was surprised. Ellie may be the serene, mothering type, but beneath that layer of calm lay a center of solid steel. John smiled a bit. Titanium, even. Saddened as he was by the couple's breakdown, he couldn't say he was surprised, especially after finally getting to know the real Ellie.

She had tried. Not many in the service, much less a civie, could have gone through what she had and come through without a serious need for therapy. Then again, maybe she'd gotten the therapy she needed from him. John pushed the tightness from his chest again.

.~.~.~.

To be continued… reviews greatly appreciated. ;D

*shameless request* The stats counter has been out on my stuff for a few days... if you have time, please review, even if it's a 'hi, I liked it' or 'hey that stinks!' Though, detailed (constructive) feedback is always appreciated! ;D THX


	2. Chapter 2

GRAVITRON  
Written for Jellie Carnival Summer Challenge: Sequel to "Tightrope" and "Fire Eater." (If you haven't read them first, they'll help set the scene.)  
A/N: Spoilers for Season Three Finale; JELLIE friendship/angst/comfort, or pre-Jellie if you like?  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I owned any rights to John Casey, we'd never leave the house!;D

Part Three

_She'd surprised him that first evening, showing up at his door with a fresh batch of guacamole dip and the simple request for a few minutes of his time. They'd sat in the kitchen, sharing the snack and making strained small talk, when she'd simply come out and asked him._

"How do you do it, John?" She stared directly as he paused mid-bite.

"Do what, exactly?" He asked quietly, not trying to hedge, but wanting to clarify what specifically she needed to know so he could best answer her question. "How do I come to your table each Sunday and pretend to be a going-nowhere appliance salesman? How do I lie to nearly everyone I meet in order to protect my cover, my asset, my country? How do I look you in the eye, knowing there are dangerous people trying to kill your brother, your friends, even you, if they found out about you, and smile and ask innocently how you like the quiche?"

"No, no, no," she dismissed the questions, waving her hand absently. "That's your job, I figure you're trained for that, and under orders and the whole bit. No. I mean… how do you…"

_She let out a frustrated huff, her hazel eyes turning a bit glassy. "How…" _

_John waited patiently as she searched for and finally found the right words._

"_How do you pretend everything's fine, when you know damned well it isn't? How do you deal with it not being fine, not ever being right again, when everyone around you wants to act like nothing's out of place?"_

"_Ah," he nodded in understanding._

"_I mean, how do you know what you know," her voice grew smaller as she clenched the cloth napkin in both hands, "know what you've done, and live with that every day when everyone wants to pretend it's never happened? And wants you to behave like… like it hasn't affected you? Changed you irrevocably? But the whole world, your whole… family… wants you to act like you're still the same? Like they're still the same? But none of you are?"_

John reached a hand across the table, palm facing up. Ellie stared at the offered hand, her jaw clenching tight, eyes bright with unshed tears that she fought to contain. After a brief moment, she released the strangled napkin and laid her own hand softly on his.

"It's not easy. Believe me, I know," he said with a wry smile. "Doing… some of the things I have to do in my line of work…" he let the details remain unspoken, but her expression said she understood the nature of those details, "and then clocking in at Buy More to sell a couple of Beast Masters while pretending I didn't just neutralize three enemy operatives the night before?"

Ellie smiled back grimly. "Exactly. I knew you'd understand what I meant, John."

For the next hour, he listened as she let the dammed-up emotions and thoughts spill out unchecked. Everything from the hurt she'd felt at being lied to by her closest loved ones, to the overwhelming guilt consuming her over her self-directed blame for her father's murder. But the lynchpin came down to two people.

"Don't get me wrong, John, I felt pretty hurt by you and Sarah. Even Morgan. But I understand. Morgan's Chuck's best friend. His loyalty will always be to Chuck. Thank goodness," she added. "And you and Sarah… well, you have to answer to generals and directors and, I don't know, maybe even the president himself. You're trained to conceal things. And you're not… you're not family. Well, you are now, sort of, but you know what I mean?"

He nodded, simply listening, letting her vent. "Chuck is my brother. My blood! I… I gave up my childhood to raise him. And I'm not sorry I did that. Did you know, I skipped my senior prom because I had to work that night? I had to pay bills and make sure he was fed and not eating just junk and staying up all night playing video games with Morgan Grimes. I was the responsible one. The older sister. And you know, I never regretted that, John. So why am I the last to know? The one who he couldn't trust? He told Morgan. Even Devon knew… and Devon!"

Her breath grew shallow and frantic. "Deep breath," he coached in a steady voice.

She slowly inhaled, filling her lungs and slowly releasing it to calm herself, shaking her head and staring off at the wall. "We swore vows, John. To always be there for each other. To be supportive of one another, no matter what. And… he's not…"

"Ellie," he broke in, trying to deflect a bit of her ire. "Devon was under orders, charged just like me and Sarah and Chuck not to reveal anything to you, to anyone. He didn't have a choice."

"I understand the lies. I forgive the deception. From him, from you, from the whole lot of you. It's not…" she let out a slow, defeated sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's not that. It's… just the rest of it."

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she slipped out of the chair, her tight smile pasted on again. "I should be getting back, Devon will be home soon. I didn't mean to take up so much of your time."

"It's no trouble at all, Ellie. Anytime," he said, rising to see her to the door. "Really. I'm…" he gave a self-depreciating laugh. "Chuck will tell you, I'm probably not the best at expressing 'lady-feelings', but… my door's always open. Figuratively speaking, of course."

Her smile grew real at his quip. "Of course." She paused on the threshold, reaching out to place a hand on his forearm. "John…thank you. Really, I…"

"Any_ time," he repeated._

Nodding, she turned to cross the courtyard, glancing back with a small but genuine smile before disappearing into her own apartment.

.~.~.~.

To be continued… reviews appreciated so much! ;D


	3. Chapter 3

GRAVITRON  
Written for Jellie Carnival Summer Challenge  
Sequel to "Tightrope" and "Fire Eater."

A/N: Spoilers for Season Three Finale;

Thanks to the chatting Jellies for inspiration on this chapter…;D  
Disclaimer: I don't own them, just letting them play around in my brainpan.

Part Three

Ellie slung her travel bag over her shoulder and slammed the door shut. Setting the alarm with a flick of her wrist behind her, she stormed toward the slight break in the trees ahead.

John watched from the bend in the road as she made a beeline for the faint opening in the woods. When she reached the edge of the small clearing, he pulled the Crown Vic into the dirt on the near side of Ellie's SUV, letting the larger vehicle hide the sedan. The caution was unwarranted. She never looked back. Once she disappeared among the trees, he slid from the car and quietly followed.

She wasn't even trying to cover her trail as she barreled down the path with a determined stride that made the Marine in him proud. And made the spy in him extremely nervous. Bad enough that she took such a risk being out here alone.

That she didn't realize – or perhaps, care – how much danger she'd put herself in… John scowled, forced a deep, centering breath through his chest. She had every right to be furious, and he'd seen this coming. Maybe not to this degree, but then again, he'd never known Ellie to do anything half-measure.

Quietly pushing low-hanging foliage from his face, he followed in her footsteps as quick as he dared, careful not to snap the branches or rustle the pine needles littering the forest floor. After she'd blown out her anger, after she'd had a chance to cool down, he'd talk to her. Explain that she couldn't be so careless with her safety. Couldn't just run off without telling someone, preferably himself, where she was going.

Just because she wanted nothing to do with the spy world, and he got that loud and clear, that didn't mean the worst elements of that world returned the sentiment. She didn't have to like it, but she had to accept it. The alternative was –

He wouldn't allow the alternative. A series of heart-stabbing images leapt across his mind: _Ellie's face terrified. Strangers hands grabbed her. Ellie trussed up. Bruised drugged tortured bleeding. _

_Unmoving…_

A surge of bile scalded his throat. He could never allow that to happen. Ever.

The Ring took a hard hit in the loss of several key leaders, but that didn't make her safe. The threats weren't completely neutralized, would never be entirely eradicated, no matter how hard he went after them or how many of the traitorous bastards he took down.

She would always be Orion's daughter, despite the man's death, and the Intersect's sister. So long as America's enemies knew of those men's contributions to national security, John assumed they knew about Ellie. If he were on the other side, he'd sure as hell be looking at the smart, successful sister, wondering what she knew, how deep her involvement truly went.

And the truth of her innocence would mean less than nothing to an enemy agent. They'd come for her, again, and again, on the mere suspicion that she might somehow work against them. Until the day she died, which was many long decades away if he had anything to say about it, she'd be a target.

Slipping silently along the path she'd taken, he planned to watch over her while she wasn't thinking her clearest. He was sure Ellie would never purposefully hurt herself, but John wasn't taking any chances. She needed to be alone right now after what Woodcomb had done, but with her emotions doing the driving she was blind to the danger she courted.

The path lightened, and John drew a small breath of relief. She was slowing at the clearing ahead. The crisp scent of fresh water permeated the dark forest, and as he neared the edge of the trees, the source became clear as the thick canopy gave way to dappled spots of light. Peering through the leaves, he watched a pair of long, shapely, jeans-clad legs disappear into the small lake-side cabin, just before the door slammed shut.

John sighed. At least she was out of the open now, but this presented a whole new conflict. He had to let her know he was here, or risk damaging the fragile trust she'd given him over these past few months. If he went in now, with her anger was still blazing full alarm, he'd cause more problems than he hoped to solve.

Of all the issues she'd shared with him, the biggest revolved around disclosure. Everyone left her in the dark, and because of that, she'd fallen prey to the Ring's manipulations. Ellie worried that she'd be used again, her ignorance of the situation preyed on to harm her family or friends. Like Justin had used her good intentions and decency to lure her father to his death.

Easing back into the shadows, John began his scout of the perimeter. He'd announce his presence after that, and make sure she understood that he wasn't going anywhere until she did. If she preferred, he'd camp out on the porch, but that would be as far away as he'd agree to.

He hadn't gone twenty paces before the silent alert of his cell phone vibrated.

.~.~.~.

A light spray of dust erupted from the hand-stitched quilt when Ellie tossed her bag onto the bed.

Immediately locking the deadbolt on the thick wooden door, she turned and slid down its length, hugging her arms around her bent knees. With her head back, she took a long, shuddery breath, and let her shoulders relax as she slowly exhaled.

No one had been here for years. She'd almost forgotten about this place, nestled high in the forest, a remnant of the few normal years of her youth. She hadn't specifically been thinking of coming here when she fled the city, had only wanted a refuge. A place where, for a brief moment, the furniture and knick-knacks and pictures on the wall wouldn't force her to think of the past year.

A ragged giggle escaped her. "Mission: failure," she whispered bitterly, looking around to the mementos of a life long-passed. Dropping her head to her arms, she allowed herself a moment to grieve. Her father's death. Her mother's absence. Her brother's childhood without them. Her own abbreviated youth. Her almost-blissful naiveté about life before she'd found out what Chuck held in his brain. Her marriage.

He hadn't bothered to tell her. Didn't have the nerve to give her the papers himself. She'd found the folder neatly laid in plain sight on the edge of the dining room table with the red tabs sticking out of it. Sadly enough, she wasn't even shocked about the method. Telling her in person meant he'd have to actually talk, acknowledge the three-ring circus their lives had become.

The most hurtful part of it, perhaps, was that the discovery wasn't nearly the surprise it should have been, all things considered. A twinge of guilt pinched her. Given the circumstances, she should be angry. Furious. Bitter.

Not relieved. The weight of his decision, how it affected her life, should be pressing down on her, smothering her in its gravity. Instead, she felt lighter because of it. That, above all, disturbed her sense of what she thought she knew about her life.

Her whole identity had been built around lies. Everything she thought was real had been whirled around, like she was on that stupid gravitron ride at the carnival. The harder she struggled to get back to that familiar, reliable central core, the harder the forces controlling her life pushed her back against the wall. And now, she wasn't sure when the ride finally stopped, if it ever did stop, what she would find in the center.

It certainly wouldn't be the man she thought would be there with her through the ages. Ellie swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. For all Devon's adrenaline-charging, adventure-seeking, he'd been unable to handle this ride to the end.

Forcing her tears back, she stood and began making the hunting cabin habitable. Personal despair and dangerous rogue spies, she may not be able to do anything about. The dust in her grandparent's old summer place didn't stand a chance.

.~.~.~.

John grimaced at the phone's screen, honestly surprised it had taken this long to get the call.

"Casey, secure," he growled quietly. "What do you need, Bartowski?"

"Casey! Casey, thank god!" The nerd agent sputtered from the earpiece as John swiftly adjusted the volume down. "I've been trying to call you for an hour, where are you? Ellie's gone, Casey, just took off and she won't answer her calls! There's – we've got trouble here, huge trouble – "

"Trouble?" John cut him off, alert to threats against the Intersect. "Are you in danger? Can you get to Castle? Walker's with you, isn't she? I'm out of range –"

"No, no, no, no, Casey, Casey listen, it's not the Ring, it's… it's worse! It's Ellie and Awesome. Casey, you've got to find my sister before it's too late."

John listened intently as Bartowski charged into an explanation of the problem, not bothering to share that he already knew most of the details.

Ellie's concerns had put him on alert, and tailing Devon hadn't been all that difficult. Woodcomb's side-trips to the plain brick office building on his lunch breaks had shed light on the man's intentions, but it wasn't John's place to reveal them. She had to deal with her struggles on her own, needed to take her destiny back into her own hands as much as possible.

"Calm down, Bartowski!" He hissed into the receiver during Chuck's momentary break for air. "She's safe."

"What do you mean, 'she's safe'? How can you know for sure, Casey? There's no telling where she's gone, who's following her. The Ring could have a dozen agents tailing her right now, and the emotional state she's in, she'd never notice!"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off his irritation. It rarely worked when dealing with the Asset, but he understood her brother's reason for hysterics. _I must be getting soft_, he groused, seeking to maintain his calm and find a way to relieve the younger man's fears.

"She's in a _safe_ location," he gritted out very slowly. "I am _at_ that location."

"You're at – you're – where are you, Casey? Give me the coordinates, I'll be there quick as I can! Is she okay?"

"Yes, she's okay, but she doesn't _know_ I'm here. Yet. And if you'll let me do my _job_, I will get back to securing the perimeter to make _sure_ there are no Ring agents in the vicinity. Are we clear?"

"Casey, we've got to get her back here! We can't let this happen! I am not going to be the cause of my sister's – "

"Negative, Bartowski," John said gently, but with a note of finality in his tone. "She has to handle this on her own. And you have to let her. It's not your fault, not this time."

A long moment of silence hung across the connection, and he could nearly see the young man's face skewing up in conflict.

"Chuck, do you trust me?" John asked without rancor.

"With my life," the answer came without hesitation.

"Then _trust_ me, Chuck."

Bartowski sighed in frustration, but his voice was noticeably calmer. "Not to sound ungrateful, Casey, but you're not… y'know, personal relationships aren't exactly your strong suit. And this is… this is important to Ellie. I don't want…"

"What do your wants have to do with it," John cut in as he eased through the trees, still scanning the scene for signs of danger. "Do you know what _she_ wants? What Woodcomb wants? Not your fight, Chuck. Not mine, either, that's not why I'm here. Your lady-feelings don't have a say in it."

"Casey, if I didn't have this damned thing in my head, none of this would be happening!"

"And if Orion hadn't created the damned thing, it wouldn't be, either. If Larkin hadn't screwed you over by sending it to you… if you weren't his friend at Stanford… if your mom hadn't left... if Ellie hadn't picked a med program that wouldn't uproot you from school…if she'd never met Devon… if, if, if, Bartowski. You don't know what would have happened 'if'." He paused, coming to the edge of the forest along the lake. Standing on the bank, he peered across the water for movement on the other side.

"If it hadn't been the Intersect, it could have been something else. Or nothing at all. No way of knowing, no sense trying to take responsibility for something you can't control. We all make our choices. And live with them." He stared out over the serene surface and into the past for a breath, his eyes softening for the barest of moments. _If… if I'd known Kathleen was pregnant when I chose this life, you and I wouldn't even be having this conversation, kid. But that's a choice long gone._

Shaking off regret for things that couldn't be changed, he sharpened his focus and his tone, giving the opposing shoreline one more visual sweep and heading back through the trees to do his job.

"I'll watch over her, Chuck, keep her safe. I give you my word. But the rest of it… that's all up to Ellie."

Bartowski still wasn't happy when he ended the call, but at least John had talked him out of tracking Ellie down. This was going to be hard enough on her without her brother's well-intentioned meddling.

.~.~.~.

A muffled thwack and a woman's shriek pierced the silence, yanking John's attention to the log structure. Pulling his sidearm from the concealed holster at the small of his back, he thumbed the safety off as he hurried toward the back of the cabin.

Hoping to catch the attacker off guard, he ran in a low crouch, his pulse pounding in his throat, pausing only a microsecond behind the porch, the outbuilding, the side of the cabin, SIG-Sauer at the ready to protect and defend. Another hard whack and an angry scream knifed through his heart. John dove into a roll, coming up on one knee from behind the half-finished pile of split firewood, pistol drawn.

At the sound of his heroic entry on the scene, Ellie spun from the quilt hanging on the clothesline and screamed in honest alarm.

The blood drained from his face, only to rush back twice as fast. John eased the barrel toward the ground and slipped the safety back into non-firing position as his shoulders sagged in relief.

"John! What the hell are you doing?" Ellie gasped as her fingers tightened in reflex on the ball bat she'd been using to beat dust from the quilt.

"You… you screamed," he mumbled with a shrug.

"I ... I… screamed?" She looked at him like he'd sprouted another head. "Of course, I screamed, John, you came out of nowhere and pointed a gun at me! That still doesn't tell me what you're doing here." Her eyes flared wide.

"You followed me?" Her whispered accusation cut him to the quick.

"Ellie, you don't understand. It's – "

"I swear to all that is good and holy, if you say 'It's complicated', I will not be held accountable for my actions, Hippocratic Oath or no Hippocratic Oath, do you understand me, John Casey?"

"Fully," he said, standing and holstering the weapon. "Yes. I followed you. And no. It's not complicated," he added with one raised brow. "In fact, a capable grown woman with a doctorate degree should have no trouble understanding why I followed her into the middle of nowhere – alone- away from any form of protection in an area with spotty cell service at best."

Ellie had the good grace to blush, her mouth opening to speak, but John held up a hand, advancing toward her. With his fears that she'd been attacked set to rest, his mind geared back toward frustration that she just didn't grasp how big a target she was now.

"I understand you didn't ask for any of this, Ellie. But you're a smart woman. Answer me this: if just one member of the Ring or its associates knows you exist…and thanks to that bastard Shaw, they do…knows whose daughter, whose sister you are…which they also do… do you think they'll give a good goddamn that you're not working for the government?"

He couldn't stop the anger that seeped into his words, caused his voice to rise as he thought of what the Ring would do if they ever got their hands on her.

"Do you honestly think they'll pause, ask you if you want this whole spy business wrapped around your life, before they snatch you? That they'll leave you alone just because you ask them _nicely_? Get this in your head, Eleanor, they will hunt you and hurt you, _torture_ – " his voice broke against the word as the hateful images flooded his mind again.

He closed the distance between them, staring down into her paling face. "Ellie, if they think there's the slightest chance they can glean information from you, they will go to _any_ lengths to do so."

The color fled from her cheeks as realization slammed into her.

"John, I didn't think – "

"No! You didn't think, did you?" In a hazy, red-fogged part of his brain he realized he was shouting now, terror fueling his fury as he grabbed her shoulders. John clenched his jaw, struggling to regain his control. Ellie gasped as his fingers clamped down, her hazel eyes wide.

It was seeing her fear that brought him back to calm, the rapid, fluttering breaths she took as her chest rose and fell quickly. She was afraid. Of the dawning knowledge or of him, it was hard to distinguish. But he never wanted her to be afraid of him. He'd die to protect her, didn't she know that?

Closing his eyes, breathing deep and slow, he forced his fingers to soften their grip, but didn't release her. "Ellie, I will do everything in my ability to keep anyone from harming you," he said evenly, opening his eyes to look directly at her. "But I can't do that if you're nowhere around and I don't know where you're going. All right?"

She relaxed a little, looking a less afraid and a bit embarrassed. "I know, John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, it's just… Devon… I found…"

"I know," he said softly, wrapping her in a comforting hug as she leaned her head on his chest. "You've got every right to be upset. I understand why you needed some space, but that doesn't change things. Ellie, no one expects you to suddenly think like an agent. But you have to keep in the back of your mind at all times that there are people who will hurt you if given half a chance. They won't care if your heart's broken. It's not fair. It's not right. It just is what it is. I'm sorry for that. Wish I could change it, but I can't."

"I should have been more careful," she nodded against him with a sad sigh. Her voice, while quiet, didn't hold the trace of tears. "It's not like I didn't know this was coming. I just never expected how. He didn't even tell me in person, just left the divorce papers where I'd see them."

John grimaced. "I'm truly sorry, Ellie."

He felt her shrug. "It's not your fault, but thanks anyway. I guess I just thought… you know, with the whole death-defying adventure kick he was always on, he'd have more…"

"Balls?"

She snorted. "Courage, I was going to say. But 'balls' works, too." With a long sigh, she pulled away slowly, giving him an ironic half-smile. "Chuck keeps calling me, wants me to rush back home, like that'll solve everything. I love my brother, but sometimes he just does not get it. Things have been broken a long while, and honestly…"

She broke off, looking ashamed and turning to stare out over the glimmering water. "Just between you and I, John, I think I'm just relieved it's over. I tried talking, you know that, and now, there's nothing left for us to say that'll mend it."

John followed her gaze across the lake. Evening sunlight shimmered across the surface, and a bass boat was making its way up the alcove from the main body of water, coming to a stop across the way from the cabin's short dock. A couple of guys in orange safety vests and lure-festooned hats were laughing, discussing between themselves whether they'd found a spot where the fish were hiding. One of them dragged out a couple of cane poles while the other looked busy with what appeared to be an electronic fish-finding device.

"Would you care to call Chuck for me?" Ellie asked, her resigned tone breaking through his observation of the men. "Tell him to leave it alone where Devon and I are concerned? I know he thinks he's responsible for this, and he's going to keep at me to come home and try to 'fix' things."

She sighed again. "His heart's in the right place, but he doesn't understand there's no fixing it. I don't want to make it harder on Devon or myself than it has to be."

"I'll call him. Tell him to stand down. In the meantime," John glanced back to the fishing buddies, "you'd ease my mind if you were back inside. At least until I can finish securing the area. Agreed?" The fish-finder man noticed them standing near the shore and raised a beer can in greeting.

"Agreed," Ellie said as she gave a cordial but brief wave.

John raised his hand back to the fellow, to keep from drawing unwelcome speculation. Everyone on the lake had to be so damned friendly all the time, whether they knew someone or not. And idle gossip at the local bait shop could mean trouble later on. For now, things would run much more smoothly if anyone who saw them thought they were just another couple who'd come up here as a getaway.

"This may not be the best time to bring it up, but we need to firm up a cover story," he told her cautiously.

"Why?" she scoffed and picked up the ball bat, giving the quilt another swat before taking it off the line. "It's not like Devon's going to care if anyone knows I'm up here, in the company of 'some other man'. He had the papers drawn up and left them. I signed them. It's no one else's business where I am or who I'm with, now is it?"

"Not what I meant, Ellie," he said as much tact as he could. "If anyone of the wrong sort is asking around, trying to find you, it may be better if anyone who's seen us to think we're just another couple on retreat. Much better than them thinking it's perhaps the upset woman from the city whose brother's head holds all the nation's security secrets and the NSA agent who's trying to keep them from getting her."

Ellie turned toward him, suddenly white. "You don't think… those guys in the boat?" She whispered, her eyes wary.

John flicked a quick glance across her shoulder at the bass boat. "I don't know, but you can never be too careful, of them or of anyone else that may happen by," he said in a low voice. "Best to pick up the cover now, before anyone has a chance to question it. We can work out the details inside. Slip your arm around my waist and smile, and act as if we're having a perfectly lovely, perfectly normal time on the lake. Can you do that?"

"What a wonderful idea, dear," she smiled gamely, letting her words carry a bit. "I'm starving, too."

Beaming down at her, both for the cover and out of pride for how quickly she caught on, he slid an arm around her shoulders and steered her gently toward the house. Ellie was about to get a crash course in Spy 101, and the sooner the better.

As he escorted his protectee into the house, John worked up a mental short list of what she needed to learn in the next hour or two. Busying his mind with the details of a cover story, he tried not to be aware of how naturally she seemed to fit up against him, and worked to ignore the warm glow growing in his chest.

.~.~.~.

To be continued…. Reviews appreciated! ;D


	4. Chapter 4

GRAVITRON  
Written for Jellie Carnival Summer Challenge  
Sequel to "Tightrope" and "Fire Eater."

A/N: Spoilers thru Season Three Finale

Disclaimer: I don't own them, just letting them play around in my brainpan. Thanks to Kuryakingirl for beta! Hope y'all enjoy…

Part Four

Ellie peered from behind the red and black plaid curtains, eying the fishing boat parked across the water. The bass boat looked average enough. The two men within it seemed preoccupied with inspecting and preparing their poles and their lures and their electronic fish-finding gizmo.

"See what's there," a deep voice coached quietly at her ear. "Then see what's beneath it."

Ellie felt herself relax, bolstered by the calm, steady presence at her back. John leaned close, the two of them trying to stay concealed behind her Gramma's handmade curtains and still both see their quarry through the window.

"Look for what's hidden under the surface. See what you're supposed to see, then find the signs that point to the truth of what's really there."

Nodding at his instructions, she studied the pair at face value, trying to take in each little detail about them, as he'd just taught her. Ellie winced as she stared intently out the window. She was no agent, but she had to learn to think like one, act like one. Here of all places, she was learning to think like a spy.

This cabin held some of the happiest memories of her entire childhood. It had once been the safest place she could ever imagine being. She associated it with her life before… before Mom had left…before Dad disappeared…before Chuck got kicked out of college… Here, life had been normal. No computers full of government secrets crammed into people's heads. Nobody trying to kill them. No cover stories for the cover stories that backed up what may or may not be the truth.

Here, they had been a real family. Here, they had been normal.

At least, that was what she had to tell herself. Ellie wondered bitterly if even then, her family had already been involved in the world of espionage. Her mind wandered back, pouring the hazy images of summer vacations and holiday getaways through the filter of what she now knew. There must have been signs, subtle hints of the trouble to come. If she could have seen it, interpreted it, maybe she could have…

"You're drifting," John murmured, snapping her back to task.

"Sorry," she whispered, focusing on their quarry again. She could feel him shift slightly as he eased a pair of binoculars over her shoulder.

"Keep the lenses angled away from the sun," he said. "Get a closer look without putting off a glare that could draw your mark's attention. Tell me what you see."

"Okay," she breathed, taking note of the sun's position and sliding the binoculars in front of her eyes.

"It won't help, by the way."

Ellie sent a sidelong glance to his profile. "What won't help what?"

"Reliving the past," he answered as conversationally as if he were talking of the weather. "Trying to play it all back, find where it all went wrong, wondering if it had always been that way. Won't help. Can't change it now. Probably couldn't have changed it then, anyway."

She just stared at him in shock for a moment, her breath catching every third or fourth inhale. "How did you know –"

He gave a humored grunt. "Seen that look plenty enough times. On rookie agents. And veteran spies. Assets. Marks. Officers." He cast her a wry smile that didn't reach his eyes. "The mirror."

Ellie studied him in silence as he returned to his own set of binoculars. A flood of shame washed over her as she realized she'd never once even wondered what John Casey's life had been like before. She knew he'd been in the field most of his adult life. That he placed his job, his duty, ahead of his own life, ahead of his wants and needs.

She knew now that he'd been in love once, engaged to his childhood sweetheart. That he'd forfeited the chance to fulfill that love when his country had called for a deeper service from him. He had a daughter, a lovely, strong-willed young woman he'd only recently found out about. Ellie wondered what kind of father he would have been, had he known all this time. She had no idea what kind of childhood had John Casey had. Had he been an outgoing teenager, or the brooding, solitary type? Were his parents alive? Did he have siblings? Had he always wanted to be a soldier, or had he once held other dreams?

Did he ever wish his life had turned out differently?

In all the years he'd come to her table on Sundays, the long months she'd sat at his as he listened to her work out her issues, he'd never once brought up his own. And she'd never asked.

That sickening sensation of being watched by the wrong eyes snapped her attention back to the window. One of the men in the boat had swiveled his chair around to face the cabin. Whether the fishing buddies were an actual danger, or if she was just being paranoid, it didn't matter. This place was no longer the haven it had been when she was a girl.

Ellie wondered if she would ever truly feel safe anywhere again. John was right. As long as the Ring, or people like them, knew about her, she had to watch her back. Watch her step. Wonder about every new person she met.

"Tell me what's out of place," John murmured. "Look for the small inconsistencies. The big things are easy to cover. That's what most people see, so those are the bases most operatives make sure to cover."

"Well, the bass boat fits. And the hats. Dad and Gramps used to wear hats just like that when we came up here."

"Anything else?" he prompted. "What do they have that your old man didn't?"

"Well," she mused, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought for a moment, then shook her head. "It's probably nothing."

"Nothing is ever nothing," John said. "Don't discount anything as 'nothing' until you've explored it fully. That 'nothing' could very well be your subconscious pointing you toward 'something' your waking mind is glossing over. So… what is this 'nothing'?"

"I…I remember Dad wore a vest, but it wasn't so loud. There's no way anyone's going to miss those guys in their bright orange. Wouldn't someone trying to stay low-key be wearing a less noticeable color? I mean, neon really sticks out, right?"

"Hmmm, nice observation," he said. "But, sometimes low-key doesn't mean hiding, it means blending in. So I ask you… do the vests fit?"

She thought about that for a moment. "They fit for outdoorsy things. The woods. And hunting and camping and…"

Ellie heard his murmur of approval as the oddity clicked in her mind. "Hunting and camping, but why would you need a neon orange hunting vest for fishing? You don't have to worry about other anglers accidentally getting you instead of the fish, like with hunters shooting. You wouldn't, would you? And those aren't floatation vests. They're just regular, neon hunting vests."

"Good. But one inconsistency could be explained away. Look for more." He said quietly at her ear. "What else."

"Okay," she said, trying to focus through the optics before her anxiety raced toward full-blown panic. "Okay, okay, they… uh. I don't know. I don't know, John–"

"Relax, and don't think so much," he said just barely loud enough to hear, resting a steadying hand on her opposite shoulder. "Keep your breathing steady, and your voice down. The shorter one, what's he holding?"

Ellie took a deep breath, letting the warmth along her shoulder calm her. Slowly exhaling, she matched his volume. "It looks like one of those electronic thingies they use for finding fish, shows where they're hiding underwater."

"Mmm. Looks like, doesn't it? So let's concentrate on that. Anything wrong with that story?"

A frown formed between her brows as she thought about it. "You already know, don't you?"

John raised a brow and tilted his head with a light grin.

"You do," she accused lightly. "Okay. Okay, let me think. Oh!"

"Yes?"

"This little cove… it's not very deep here, maybe fifteen feet at most. Would they need help finding the fish here? An electronic fish finder for fish that aren't really hard to find?"

"Good, good," he nodded. "Not likely, but it is plausible. Some people care more for owning the trophy than the actual experience of earning it. This guy might be the type who'd use one in a stocked pond. But that's a good observation. What else?"

"The poles!" she whispered excitedly, her confidence growing as he grinned at her. Maybe that was part of John's goal, she thought, to help her feel more in control of the clearly out-of-control situation that had landed on top of her.

"What about them?" He prodded. "People fish with cane poles all the time, what's the big deal?"

"I mean, really, _cane poles, _John? Looks like they just picked them up at the bait shop. The owner stocks them for the kids. Grampa used to take Chuck and me to the stock pond each visit when we were little, and we'd always swing by the shop for worms and a brand new cane pole for each of us. I mean, who's going to spend all that money on big motors and electronics to go fishing, but not spring for something a little more fancy than a plain old cane pole? That's significant, isn't it?"

He smiled broadly at her, and Ellie felt her breath catch.

"Good job," he said, the pride evident in his voice. "See? All it really takes is seeing what's in front of you, seeing what's truly there."

He peered back through the binoculars. "Most people walk around with perfect vision, but are completely blind. They see what they expect to see, what's projected, but seldom what's really at the heart of the matter. Half the time, you could parade the truth naked in front of their faces and they'd still never see it."

An unexpected warmth spread through her midsection as she realized how much his words applied to than more than just espionage. Ellie felt a flush creep up her neck and cheeks as her breathing grew faster, more shallow on its own accord. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she tried to see if he'd noticed, relieved to find him still concentrating on the men in the boat who were probably trying to kill or capture her.

The reminder that her life was in danger, would likely remain so for the rest of her life, should have been like a splash of icy water in her face. Her now pending divorce, the papers only signed hours ago, should be a devastating weight around her neck, precluding any kind of attraction to another man for some time.

Somehow, none of that seemed to quell the rising awareness of this man next to her. It had been _him_, when she was floundering to make sense of her father's murder, who had calmly listened without trying to justify the madness. When her formerly 'awesome husband' transformed into a caricature of his former caring self, eager to shuffle off her concerns and fears with a bright cheery excursion or hours of exercise, it had been _him_ to listen without judgment or a thousand suggestions of what she was doing wrong.

For the past three years, he'd quietly, secretly been watching over her family, over her, with little thanks and no expectation of it. John Casey had been the rock she'd unconsciously come to rely on. He'd shouldered her need without complaint, never once brushed her aside or been too busy.

A myriad of feelings raced through her as she surreptitiously watched him, standing like a fortress between her and those who would do her harm. For the most part, the flood of images and hints swirling around inside her refused to be defined. Two emotions, however, broke from the ranks to demand her acknowledgement.

Trust. Gratitude.

Turning to face him fully, she let those two emotions shine without reservation. Whatever he'd meant to say when he lowered the binoculars a moment later frozen on his tongue when he caught her eyes. A faint smile curled on his lips as his brows lifted in question.

"Thank you, John," she said simply and sincerely. "For…everything."

It was hard to tell in the cabin's dim light, but she almost thought he blushed a little, just before he smiled and dipped his head toward her. "My pleasure, ma'am."

She smiled back at him, laying her hand on his arm for just a moment before the urgency of her situation pressed its way to the front of her thoughts again.

"So… they're most likely operatives for the Ring or someone like that, right?" she asked in a hushed voice. The months since the Big Revelation of Chuck and Sarah and John's true occupations had taught her never to assume a room wasn't bugged with listening devices.

John nodded slowly, eyes swinging back out to the men in the boat not a hundred yards away. "High enough chance that's no fish locator, but more likely a high-powered sound amplifier."

Ellie swallowed hard, glancing through the slit in the curtains and back to the agent's face. "What do we do now?"

He sighed softly, then shrugged as if getting to the point would be easier in the long run. "Now we secure our cover. We go over our 'story' together until it's seamless. Until we both answer to our cover names automatically… which is why I've picked names similar enough but different enough to our own that you should catch on them quickly. And we…"

A visible discomfort fell over his features. "I know it must be difficult for you, Ellie, especially since you and Devon just…" A pained expression crossed his face for the briefest of moments.

He shook his head, and was once again the professional operative who was hell bent on keeping her safe at all costs. "This may be hard for you, but since our most believable cover is as a loving couple, we need to present ourselves as such. That means the usual… touching, hugging, general displays of affection. It's crucial that we seem completely natural with one another. No awkwardness, no stiffness, no skittishness if a more personal display is required to fool the enemy."

Ellie nodded in silence, but John pushed the point, concern written in his eyes. "Ellie, I need to know, right now… is that something you think you can handle? Because if it's not…"

"What alternative do we have?" she asked.

"If you don't think you can pull this cover off convincingly – we run. Right now. Hard and fast to my car, and we get you the hell out of here. Those two out there will see us, or hear us, and either give chase or call in reinforcements to intercept us. There's a high probability of gun play. And since the most likely point of interception would be your apartment, or Chuck's, we can't go there. Which means a safe bunker, until the threat is eliminated."

Ellie paled. "Which will, in all likelihood, be never. Right?"

John grimaced, but nodded.

She chewed her lower lip a moment as she weighed all the information she had. "If we run, we risk losing these two, and whatever information they may have on the Ring. Am I right?"

Silently, he nodded again.

"But if we stay," she said hesitantly, "we may be able to capture, or at least identify a few more of the people who murdered my Dad. Those who want to kill or hurt Chuck. Or me. Or anyone else close to us?"

"We might be able to do that," he said. "It's not a guarantee, though."

"But it's still more likely than if we run."

"Yes, it is," he said simply.

Ellie contemplated the options before making her decision. "We have to show the world a loving, affectionate couple, is that it?"

"That's the gist of it, yes. But if it's too soon after –"

Thinking back on the time she'd known him, Ellie could honestly say she'd never seen John Casey truly surprised. Until now.

His momentary shock as she twined her fingers around his collar and pulled his mouth down to hers gave way to approval when her lips brushed against his. Another emotion altogether burned in his eyes just before he closed them and deepened the kiss she'd started.

To be continued…


End file.
